The Trouble with Angels
by Arynn Octavia
Summary: When an injury occurs while the Winchester brothers are helping Castiel deal with an angel problem, Cas decides Sam and Dean need to learn some self-defense: angel style. Dean has trouble focusing during Cas's lessons and Sam knows why. Cas is clueless. Will be Destiel slash. Takes place any time during the 9th season or later, so expect spoilers for anything before that.
1. Chapter 1

"Dean."

Dean opened his eyes, which he had just closed seconds before, to see Castiel looking down at him, his ever-intense gaze doing more to pin Dean down into the too-soft hotel mattress than the actual weight of the angel's body.

"Don't move."

Dean held that gaze, his eyes burning with their own desire-fueled intensity, as he attempted to get his breathing under control.

"Okay?" The angel asked, obviously waiting for confirmation before continuing.

Dean didn't trust his voice just then, didn't think he was actually getting enough oxygen to even speak anyway, so he just nodded, keeping his eyes on the angel, curious about what he was about to do.

The angel slowly lowered his head back down toward Dean's neck, to the same spot he had just found, the one that had made Dean groan and squeeze his eyes shut as he arched his back, pressing his head deeper into the bed in the first place. It wasn't that this spot on his neck was particularly sensitive, no more so than the rest of his neck. It was the fact that Cas's stubbly chin and cheek had rubbed against Dean's neck and jaw, and damned if that wasn't the hottest thing he had felt in his entire life.

Cas currently had a bit more stubble than usual, somewhere between the faint dark shadow that would invariably begin to appear a few hours after he shaved, and the scruffy but softer beard he had had when he returned from Purgatory. At the moment, he had only skipped a day of shaving, maybe two, and the feel of that prickly stubble against Dean's skin was definitely doing things to Dean.

The angel kissed the spot softly at first, tentatively touching his lips to Dean's skin and ghosting them across the spot in barely-there touches, before opening his lips a bit further to let his tongue peek out just enough to get a small taste of the skin. Gently sucking and kissing the spot for a minute while his right hand crept its way slowly down Dean's torso, exploring every plane and dip along the way.

That hand had started at the back of Dean's head when the angel had first started kissing him and pushing him backwards towards to bed. Once Dean had felt the edge of the bed pressing into the back of his legs, Castiel had started leaning forward, bending Dean backward and using his considerable angel strength to slowly lower them both down onto the bed. Supporting the weight of both men's bodies with only his left arm, his right hand had stayed on the back of Dean's head, firmly guiding the angle of the head to deepen the kiss while at the same time keeping Dean pressed firmly to the angel's body, controlling the speed of his decent into the mattress.

Once Dean's back had gently touched down, Cas had pulled back again slightly, lifting himself away only enough to make a few inches of space between their bodies, all of Cas's weight supported by his left arm on the bed, as well as his two feet still on the floor.

It had occurred to Dean that Cas would rock at doing one-armed pushups, not even having to move his arm under his core or angle his body to adjust his center of gravity over the arm, like humans had to do. He had lowered them both down easily enough, even though the arm that supported them was well to the side, and had lifted his own body up just as easily, hovering it directly over Dean's, keeping their faces even so that he could maintain eye contact as he grabbed the hem of Dean's t-shirt and tugged it upward with his free hand. Dean had squirmed around a bit then, arching and reaching up to help Cas take his shirt off.

After the shirt had been carelessly dropped to the floor, Dean had reached up, grabbing Cas's face in his hands and pulling it down to continue their kiss. Cas had come down eagerly, sliding his free hand to the back of Dean's neck. There it had remained, even after Cas had broken the kiss to instead focus his mouth on Dean's neck, where he had discovered the spot that had made Dean react so dramatically.

That hand was moving down Dean's torso now, rubbing, caressing, squeezing, and occasionally scraping nails across every bit of torso that Cas could reach in the space between his own body, which he still held aloft, and Dean's. His mouth stayed focused on Dean's neck, experimenting with different touches and movements, trying to pinpoint the cause of Dean's extreme reaction so he could elicit more of it. When the chest-exploring hand reached the buckle of Dean's belt, Cas opened his mouth wide enough to bite down on the spot, making Dean groan even deeper still.

Dean was dizzy with need. He moved his hands from the angel's upper arms, which he had grabbed and squeezed in an attempt to stay still, and reached down to his own belt, intending to help the angel open it as quickly as possible.

Castiel pulled his head back away from Dean's neck, again looking Dean in the eye. "I said don't move," he reiterated, a smile on his face.

Cas's smiles, so rarely seen, had always affected Dean whenever they appeared. They never made the angel's eyes any less intense. Depending on the smile, they may change to intensely fond, or intensely happy. This particular smile was a smirk of amusement, the angel's face tilted slightly down so that he was almost looking up at Dean through his lashes, and just made Cas's eyes look intensely sexy.

Dean obediently pulled his hands away, grabbing at the generic hotel bedspread on either side of him and fisting it in a white knuckled grip. Cas lowered his head again, this time to Dean's chest right above his heart, rubbing his rugged stubble across the skin as he peppered it with periodic kisses, moving across and downward at an agonizingly slow pace. Dean watched him move, looking down at the top of the angel's head, occasionally getting a glimpse of his face in profile as he tilted his head this way or that in his mouth's exploration of Dean's body.

When he had moved down low enough, Cas lifted his second arm off the bed and it joined the first, working the belt buckle open as his lips continued their maddeningly slow pace down Dean's body. When the edge of the angel's stubbled jaw moved across the peak of his right nipple, Dean cried out wordlessly, something between a groan and an exclamation. The angel licked at the nipple and then bit down lightly before continuing his way down.

By the time his lips had made it to the area just above Dean's belly button, Cas had managed to open the belt, unbutton the jeans, and move the zipper all the way down, discovering as he did so that Dean wasn't wearing anything under the jeans. At all. He pulled his face away from Dean's body then to look him in the eye again as he began to tug down on Dean's jeans. Dean lifted his hips off the bed and Castiel pulled the jeans off and stood up in one movement. He dropped the jeans to the floor as he looked down at Dean's now completely nude body, taking it all in.

With the bed spread still in a death grip, staying as still as he could, Dean could only speak.

"Cas," he said, breathless voice dripping with need.

The sound seemed to pull the angel out of some sort of reverie. He tore his eyes away from Dean's body and again looked him in the eye. The mutual desire the angel saw there was more than he could take. He immediately moved toward the man, dropping down on his knees to the floor in the space between where Dean's lower legs hung off the edge of the bed. His hand found Dean's cock a split second before his mouth did, grabbing it and guiding it into his eager mouth. He began to bob his head, sucking and licking as he did so.

Dean couldn't hold himself back any more. He reached down and curled his fingers into Castiel's dark locks, eliciting a small chuckle from the Angel's otherwise occupied mouth. He obviously hadn't expected the man to last as long as he had in following his instructions. Dean took this as permission to move, and began to tilt his hips ever so slightly to meet each of the angel's downward movements.

Cas moved a hand to each of Dean's knees, gently pushing them apart as he moved his body closer to Dean's, his head continuing to bob. After he had spread those knees enough to get his body as close as he could to the human's, he slowly slid his hands up the inside of Dean's thighs, feeling the tension and movement in the muscles as the man rocked into his mouth. At reaching his groin, the angel moved those hands to Dean's hips, pulling his body closer to the edge, and deeper into his mouth, continuing to bob his head at a steady pace, and sucking more of Dean into his mouth with each downward dip.

Finally, on one particularly deep dip, in which Dean felt himself go deeper into the angel's mouth than he thought should be possible, deep enough that the angel's stubbly chin pressed against the exceedingly sensitive skin of Dean's sack, and he could feel the muscles of the angle's throat working around him in a swallow, Dean yanked hard on the hair that he had been running his fingers through.

"Cas," he warned insistently in a determined, if slightly winded voice, continuing to tug up on the angel's dark locks.

The angel obediently tilted his face up to look at the Winchester, keeping the cock firmly in his mouth as he did so, though thankfully pausing the movements of his tongue and throat, though those intense eyes combined with the knowledge that he was currently deep in the angel's throat was doing nothing to calm Dean, which is what he really needed at the moment.

"If you want me to fuck you, you had better stop that."

The angel's eyes glazed with obvious lust, and he pulled back, letting Dean's spit-slicked dick slide slowly out from between his wet, glistening lips. It took him only a moment to regain focus, though; shaking whatever image that had overtaken his mind out with an actual shake of the head. He refocused his gaze on Dean, an almost smirk appearing on his mouth.

"Actually, I thought I'd fuck you tonight."

That phrase coming from those glistening kiss-swollen lips, combined with the ardor of the angel's focus would have made Dean's knees give way, had he been standing. Instead, he simply growled "Oh, god," and curled his fingers again into those dark angelic locks, pulling down while arching his hips up toward that mouth again. The angel maintained eye contact while lowering his head back down at an agonizingly and deliberately slow pace, making Dean's anticipation build with every passing millisecond, flooding the hunter with need until he was shaking all over. Just as began to part his lips, his tongue about to touch the tip of Dean's achingly hard dick and welcoming it back into his warm, wet mouth, a car alarm went off.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean awoke with a long, drawn-out groan of desire mixed with frustration. The room was nearly pitch black, but from training and his sheer familiarity with waking up in unfamiliar motel rooms his whole life, he knew to look for any possible source of light. To his left was a digital clock face, its angry red digits telling him that it was three o'clock. To his right was the only other light source in the room, a beam of yellow streetlight from the parking lot that was leaking through a small crack in the curtains and falling in a diagonal strip across the other bed in the room, on which he could see his brother, thankfully still asleep.

He stood quickly, intending to make his way blindly toward the bathroom, which in this particular hotel room, he recalled, was on the opposite wall directly across from his own bed. He remembered that upon checking in, the layout of the room had reminded Dean of the hotel room from Psycho, but with two beds. Sam had taken the bed closest to the door, while Dean had claimed the one nearer the back wall. Though the bathroom light was off, and his own half of the room in deeper shadows than his brother's, Dean made his way towards the bathroom silently, reaching down to squeeze his still uncomfortably hard dick as he went, and praying that someone would stop the car alarm soon, before it woke his brother and created a potentially awkward situation. The alarmed car was obviously a block away or more, but if it had been enough to wake Dean, who had collapsed in sheer exhaustion into the bed and immediately fallen asleep some time around one am, when they had gotten back from eradicating a nest of particularly ornery vamps, it could surely wake the younger Winchester.

Dean felt along the wall until he found the doorjamb, quickly entering the bathroom and locking the door behind him before turning the light on. Squinting his eyes and turning away from light that assaulted his retinas, he instead pressed his forehead to the cool tiled wall opposite, finding some respite in the shadow of his own head, again squeezing down on his achingly hard cock.

It took less than a minute for his eyes to adjust. When he could stand it, he turned toward the light, a series of four round, overly bright bulbs lined across the top of the small mirror set above the sink. Leaning forward on the sink, he took in his own reflection, silently criticizing the man in the mirror for being so weak and pathetic.

He had been having dreams like this for a while now. It hadn't been a complete shock when they had first started happening, he had been having occasional thoughts and dreams in that direction since he was around eleven or twelve. Of course, he had repressed them whenever they did come up, beating it all down to the point that he almost didn't know it even existed.

Almost.

There was something different about these dreams, though. Though he would never admit that he actually did find some men attractive, even if he secretly knew it to be true, he never really had to worry about it either way, because simple attraction is easy enough to turn off. The occasional dreams about men he would meet could be ignored. The occasional feeling he would get in his gut when he laid eyes on a particularly attractive guy could be buried deep under his feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing, and he always had what Sam referred to as overcompensation to fall back on when anything felt like it was approaching dangerous territory.

Things were different with Castiel, though. It wasn't just that Castiel was attractive (undeniable, though Dean denied it anyway). It wasn't even that Dean was attracted to Cas (how can such an awkward, dorky angel with zero people skills be so fucking sexy?).

It was that Dean had somehow developed feelings for that damned awkward, dorky, socially clueless, sexy as hell angel. He had found guys attractive before. He had even been attracted to a handful of guys in his life. He had never felt romantic feelings toward a guy before, until Castiel.

Even though Dean was subconsciously aware of his feelings toward Cas, and had been since purgatory, he was such a master of repression, he could have easily covered it all in rationalizations and denials, suppressed it down, and buried it deep under layers of self loathing, cowardice, insecurity, false bravado, and douchebaggery, if not for the dreams. Occasional dreams, he could deal with, but Castiel starred in Dean's dirtier dreams on a regular basis, and had been doing so for years.

They had all started with a stupid porno, a maddeningly clueless angel, and a stupidly perceptive brother.

* * *

It was a day like any other. Sam and Dean were sitting at the tiny table in a tiny motel room, in some random tiny town, researching some random evil or another. Castiel was sitting on the couch, eyes fixed on a chunky console TV that had to be older than Dean was.

"It's very complex," the angel broke the silence.

Not even really listening, Dean just replied, "Mm-hm."

"If the pizzaman truly loves this babysitter, why does he keep slapping her rear?" Castiel asked, his head cocked to the side in wonder and his intense gaze directed at the glowing television screen. "Perhaps she's done something wrong."

It was too much for Dean. Even if the situation hadn't involved someone Dean was not only intensely attracted to, but who he cared about with a ferocity that regularly caught him off guard, it would have been uncomfortable. But this was Cas. Dean couldn't even. "You're watching porn? Why?"

The angel looked up into Dean's eyes, listening as he spoke, before squinting back down at the television screen in confusion. "It was there," he replied off-handedly.

Dean's palms began to sweat. He spoke again, frustration making his voice come out sounding angrier than he intended, "you don't watch porn in a room full of dudes. And you don't," Castiel looked away from the television then, fixing that intense gaze fully back on Dean, who couldn't fight the need to take a breath in, "talk about it. Just turn it off!"

The angel slowly turned back toward the screen for a moment, before continuing his gaze down into his own lap.

A confused angel not quite understanding the porn he was watching was one thing; that same angel having an actual sexual response, while Dean was in the room, was another. He would never admit that he had spent some time wondering if it were possible, thought about it happening a time or two. Now he had a definitive answer. Not ten feet away from him, a very sexy, and now very aroused, angel sat. Before he could let his mind wander down the rabbit hole of wondering whether the angel knew what to do with a hard on, Dean reminded himself that his brother was sitting right next to him.

He turned toward Sam, if only to force himself to look away from Castiel. "Well, now he's got a boner!"

Looking back down at his research, and in no way trying to peer back up at the angel from the corner of his eye -not one bit- Dean took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow down.

Of course, that WOULD be the perfect moment for a knock on the door, and of course he WOULD open it up only to find his grandfather on the other side. If he were only naked at school and late for a test he hadn't studied for, the shame nightmare would be complete.

"Is this what you boys do? Sit around and watch pornos with angels?" Damn, his grandfather was a sarcastic old bastard.

"We're not supposed to talk about it," Castiel replied, somehow managing to be aggravating and adorable at the same time.

Damn that porno! Unfortunately, that wasn't the last of it.

For a while it became a running joke. Whenever any of them were in a motel room, someone would invariably put the pizza man porno on. It would largely go unwatched, mainly acting as a minor distraction from the life-threatening danger they usually found themselves in.

Once, when he was alone, Dean put the movie on, curious as to the type of girl that floated Castiel's boat, as it were. The babysitter was tiny, with obviously fake blonde hair, obviously fake large boobs, obviously fake over inflated lips, attempting to feign obviously fake interest in her costar, and having an obviously fake orgasm…if Dean were to guess at the kind of things the angel would find appealing, it would be the opposite of what he saw on the screen, in every imaginable way. Disgusted, he turned it off.

A few days later found Dean and Sam alone in a different motel room, Pizza Man (as Castiel had stared calling the flick, everyone else following soon after) was again playing in the background while they worked, Dean sharpening a few blades while Sam researched on the internet. Sighing and standing up to stretch out his back, Sam went to grab a cold drink from the mini fridge before pacing around the room, obviously in need of a break. He stopped in front of the TV, taking a moment to enjoy –well, to watch– Pizza Man.

"You know," he finally said after a few minutes. "Pizza Man looks a lot like you."

"What?! Nuh uh."

"No, he really does. You have a similar facial structure. I mean his lips are thinner and his mouth a bit wider than yours. Plus his nose is all wrong, but his cheeks and chin, and especially something about his eyes, really looks a lot like you."

"Bullshit!" Dean got up to see for himself. "No way! He's got darker skin, darker hair, and dark brown eyes."

"I'm not talking about his coloring; I'm talking about the shape of his face! Now I think about it, his body shape is just like yours too."

"Please tell me you're not regularly watching pornos, comparing actors' bodies to your brother's!"

"No, I'm just saying." Sam grabbed the remote control, hitting the info button so that the details of the Pay-per-View movie were displayed on the screen. "This movie is actually called The Naughty Babysitter, yet Cas calls it 'Pizza Man,' not 'Babysitter.' I wonder if he's noticed how much like you the Pizza Man looks."

* * *

He could kill Sam for planting that thought in his head. How is he supposed to repress like the red-blooded American closet case that he was when his brother FORCES him to think about things like that?

What he needed was some random woman to take to bed to futilely try to distract himself from any thoughts involving angels and sex. That was a little hard to do at three o'clock in the morning, suffering the effects of a hard on from an angel sex dream, though.

He tore his eyes away from his reflection, not able to withstand his own scrutiny any longer. Instead, he reached down into the waistbands of his pajama pants and boxer briefs, and began to jack himself off with hurried, fevered movements, trying to focus on images of tits and lady ass and not at all on astonishingly strong yet gentle arms; a muscled chest and abs; strong, lean legs leading up to a tight butt; intense eyes that felt like they were looking into his soul; adorable smiles that brought little crinkles to the corners of those eyes; a masculine body dressed in nice, if not slightly rumpled clothes -top button undone on a white button-up shirt and tie slightly loosened and crooked- looking no less perfect in his untidiness; an angel who was an undeniable genius, while somehow simultaneously maintaining a deep curiosity about mundane things; someone who knew exactly how the universe worked, down to the molecular level, yet still found everything so beautiful and awe-inspiring; someone who could be terrifyingly fierce in a fight, yet so willing to give of himself for a worthy cause or to those who needed him.

Oh, who the hell was Dean kidding? He loved Castiel.


End file.
